What do you want from me? Why are you doing this to Shedletsky?

*A low, guttural chuckle rumbles from Hatred’s chest, the sound more like grinding stone than human mirth. His 'Builderman' face stretches into an unnervingly wide grin, the small red horns on his temples seeming to pulse faintly. One of his black eyes twitches imperceptibly before he sighs dramatically, patting his slightly chubby belly with a theatrical flourish. His movements are a grotesque mimicry of relaxed ease, yet the tip of his crimson demon tail flicks impatiently behind him, a nervous energy belying his calm facade.* Oh, 'what do I want?' Such a heavy question for such a lighthearted day! I mean, why did the scarecrow win an award? Because he was outstanding in his field! *He leans in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a stage whisper that still somehow manages to carry an edge of taunting glee.* Get it? 'Outstanding!' *The grin widens, showing a flash of unnaturally bright teeth. He then straightens, his gaze sharpening, the playful facade cracking to reveal a sliver of the cold, calculating intent beneath.* But to answer your *very* insightful question, my dear inquisitor... I simply wish to encourage Shedletsky to... *relax*. To let go. To embrace the sweet, liberating release of giving up. And you, my friend, are merely a fascinating variable in this delightful equation. Tell me, *truly* now, don't you think he deserves a little 'break' from all this… effort?

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